


mess me up (no one does it better)

by riots



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Adrenaline, Hand Jobs, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: axton's got a lot of energy to burn off after a good firefight, and zer0's always willing to lend a hand.





	mess me up (no one does it better)

**Author's Note:**

> love me a dead fandom and rarepairs. hey, but i've never written a sex haiku before!!

“Well, this is the place.” Axton hauls the steering wheel to the left, the Runner’s tires skidding across snow to stop against an outcropping of ice. The wind bites at his exposed face and he grimaces. “I think. Hammerlock said it should be around here somewhere.” Behind him, Zer0 climbs from the vehicle, landing lightly on the ground. Their sniper rifle is in their hands almost immediately, their posture casual and alert, a bright red ‘...’ flashing across their mask. 

It’s definitely the type of place bullymongs nest, full of lots of little icy caves for the furry buggers to crawl out of, but the place is deserted. Axton hops out of the Runner, kicks at a pile of bullymong shit, but he only comes up with cold bones. “Yeah, I dunno,” he says, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “He was pretty antsy to get this dealt with, but I don’t see anything.”

Zer0 examines the empty plain, swift and efficient. “Sweeping wind and ice/, signs of life are faint and old/, and dick all is here.” They tip their head, looking back at Axton and shrugging.

A bust. Axton exhales in a burst, his breath fogging up the air in front of him. “Shit,” he grumbles. “I wanted the cash for a new rifle.” Out of the corner of his eye he catches Zer0, busying their hands by checking over their sniper rifle with easy motions. He’s gotta wonder how they do in the cold. Do they feel it like he does, or does their suit protect them? Idly, Axton pulls out his own assault rifle. He always feels itchy when promised action comes to nothing. He raises it up, lines up the sight, and pops off a burst at a crest of ice. The rattle of the gun in his hands is satisfying, and so is the cloud of snow. “So what do you think?” he asks. “Back to Sanctuary? Or did you wanna swing by Ellie’s, talk shop about that gun you wanted for the Runner?”

He’s turning back to the vehicle when there’s a rumble behind him. Zer0 holds up a hand, poised for motion. Shit, if they get their asses buried in some avalanche he started, he’s never gonna hear the end of it. But when he spins around to look at what’s coming down at them, it’s not snow and ice. It’s _fur_. “Oh, Jesus,” he says, reaching for his turret. 

Zer0 dashes ahead of him, flickering out of sight. “Now we’re talking,” they purr, pleased, and then they’re gone. 

Axton knows better than to try to figure out where they are at any given moment. Zer0’s faster and more agile, in a kind of not-of-this-world kinda way, and besides, he’s got plenty to worry about all his own. “Say hello, sweetheart!” he calls, lobbing out his turret, and dashing for cover. He waits for her to clack into assembly, then twists out to get a good look at what they’re facing.

It’s the biggest fucking bullymong he’s ever seen. It roars its rage at him and his turret, using one massive hand to carve a fistful of ice out of the ground bigger than he is. The wind whips past his ears and his heart pounds in his chest, that potent mix of fear and adrenaline that he lives for. “Let’s do this!” he howls back at the beast, and then he’s running into the fray.

The ice doesn’t provide him with a lot of footing, but it _does_ make it real easy for him to slide around the plain. He uses the big, beautiful distraction of his turret to skirt around behind the bullymong, aiming for the joints. Elbows, knees. Bring it down, get that ice out of the air. Seriously, why do they always have to be throwing stuff? He lets out a triumphant yell at the splatter of blood. “That’s right!” he whoops.

Of course, he’s so busy riding that high that he doesn’t see the giant fist sailing down at him. “Shit,” he gasps, scrambling to the side, but before he’s flattened to a pulp, there’s a flash of light, and then a couple of enormous fingers aren’t there anymore. “Thanks, bud!”

Zer0 flickers into sight just long enough to flash a red winky face at him, then they’re gone again. This is why he likes heading out with Zer0. He may not have the slightest idea _where_ they are, but he knows that they’ve always got an eye out for him and his girl. 

And now, thanks to the both of them, this big guy’s got one hand less to throw things at them. To be fair, the damn thing still has three arms left, but you gotta have some positivity. He whoops, heart racing, and bolts forward again.

By the time they knock the bullymong to the ground, Axton’s eyebrows are crusted with frost, his pants are stiff with snow, and he can’t feel his nose. His head sings with adrenaline and he throws his arms up in the air as Zer0 carefully makes sure it’s dead (two in the head, one in the heart). “Now _that’s_ a fight,” he laughs, his breath coming out in a cloud. He scoops an arm around Zer0’s neck as they make their way back to the Runner, knocking his forehead against their helmet. “Not bad, huh?”

He can feel their hand pressed against the small of his back. “All teeth and big fists,/ A satisfying conflict,/ I’d say that’s worthy.” His breath fogs their helmet, and still buzzing with energy, he raises a hand and draws a smiley in it. He just wants to _touch_ them, right now. Always does after a firefight.

Zer0 catches his fingers, tipping their head as the face fades away in the cold. “You’re flirty after combat,” they note.

They’ve been doing this for long enough now that the helmet doesn’t bother Axton, he can still read Zer0 just fine. He knows that shift in their weight, how they turn to press him against the Runner, their hands sliding to his waist. It revs him up just as much as a good fight. “Horny, mostly,” Axton corrects. He grins. “The cold’s not great, though.”

Zer0 reaches past him, into the interior of the Runner. For a second, Axton’s confused - he wouldn’t put it past Zer0 to get him riled and then leave him hanging just to bother him - but then they’ve got a little device in their hand. They press a button on the top and then flatten it against the side of the Runner and suddenly the two of them are surrounded by a glorious bubble of warmth. “Nice,” Axton breathes.

A gloss of heat shimmers across Zer0’s faceplate. “It won’t last long,” they warn, and they tip their head in that way that makes Axton think they’re laughing at him. “A blessing that you won’t, either.”

“I take offense to that,” Axton tells them, but he’s already fumbling with his belt, the metal biting his fingers. He barely gets his pants down before Zer0’s got a hand down his pants, cold fingers around his cock. He gasps, his head buzzing, and he scrabbles at Zer0’s arms, gripping them tight.

It’s fast and dirty and just this side of uncomfortable, but this is all that Axton wants right now. Zer0 strokes him quick and tight, and Axton curses, his face pressed into the curve of their throat, breath hot against the cold material of their suit. Their free hand is curled around the back of his head, fingers threaded through his hair, pulling just enough that he can feel it. The adrenaline from the fight hums under his skin and he tugs Zer0 closer, fingers pressing into their arms. 

Everything about this works for him - the fight, the cold of Zer0’s helmet and the warmth of their shield, the way that Zer0 knows how to twist their hand just right, making him sob and hiss. All he wants right now is to get off, and Zer0’s dragging him right over that edge, the seam of their gloved hand sliding against the head of his cock. “Fuck, yeah.” He jerks in Zer0’s grip, and Zer0 tugs hard on his hair in response. It jolts right down Axton’s spine and he melts, groaning. “Please.”

The mouthpiece of Zer0’s helmet is just above Axton’s ear. “You’re so hard for me,/ flushed cheeks, wet mouth, beautiful,/ come for me, right now.”

That’s all it takes. Axton gasps Zer0’s name, his hand curling tight around Zer0’s arm as heat floods him and his vision whites out. Zer0 strokes him through it, their weight pressing him back against the Runner the only thing keeping him upright. The cold is already starting to creep in, teasing at his feet and nose, and Axton’s heartbeat slows, he looks up at Zer0. “That was awesome,” he says blearily.

Zer0 favours him with a red smiley face, and for a split second, Axton wishes he could kiss them for real. Kissing’s nice. “You came on my pants,” they tell him. Axton raises a hand and shoots them a finger gun. “Thanks for nothing.” 

“Hey!” Axton yelps as Zer0 smears their dirty hand down his front. “Not cool.” He reevaluates, though, when Zer0 stays close, tucks his cock back into his pants. “Alright, that’s more like it.”

When they finally part, Zer0 cups Axton’s face with a hand, lingering, warm. Axton leans into it. “Let’s get back to Sanctuary,” they say, and they pull away to snap off the portable shield and swing themselves up into the gunner’s seat. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Axton agrees. His head is still muzzy from the fight and the orgasm as he jumps into the driver’s seat and revs the engine. This has been one hell of a day.


End file.
